


The Wallflower

by catisacat



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Decent amount of Reaper76 in the background, F/F, Group dynamics, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catisacat/pseuds/catisacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winston's managed to get the whole group together in Gibraltar for a picnic but a certain sniper doesn't want to properly join the party.</p><p>Luckily, Tracer's on the case and she's not going to take a "no" for an answer when friendship is what's on the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wallflower

The fact Winston had managed to organize such a big picnic for everyone was a miracle. Granted, some had taken better to it than others but everyone was here, right now, in Gibraltar. A beautiful picture was painted for them as they’d dragged tables out onto the open area looking out to the crisp blue sea.

However, they’d quickly splintered off into their little social groups. As to be expected, really. The young ones, the chill ones, the Omnics and the Omnic adjacent, the junkers, the grandpas. He was a bit disappointed that a few scragglers who were lurking in the wings and refusing to really interact with the others.

He wasn’t surprised though. Honestly, what HAD surprised him was that Reaper and Widowmaker had decided to come at all. Even if they were making a pointed effort to ignore the others. Reaper had claimed a whole picnic table for himself although the fact Soldier 76 kept looking over at him was heartening. If anyone could forcibly drag Reaper into the fold it’d be him.

Watching the familiar figure of Tracer dart up into one of the many sniper nests of Gibraltar Winston knew it wouldn’t be long before Widowmaker was down here with them too, one way or another.

\---

Widowmaker looked like a modern gargoyle up there, stony face glowering down at the bustling group below. Her mind raced as it always did. A thousand ways to kill the ants below her, like a child with a magnifying glass surveying their territory.

For example, the Shambali was wide open. Zenyatta, they called him. Wedged happily between Genji and the clanking Bastion, encouraging the former to eat the burger that had been placed in front of him. However, the ninja’s eyes darted up to her immediately. Or so she assumed. Either way, he left his visor down.

It would be so easy. So quick. He wouldn’t even see it coming.

The sudden tap on her shoulder brought her out of her murderous trance.

“Merde,” she spat, her heart racing almost enough to catch up to a normal human’s pace, “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry, love! Thought you had eyes in the back of your head,” Tracer chirped, tapping at one of the multi-lens visor’s many eyes and giggling as it moved away from her touch.

“Sadly, only the front.”

It was the only sentence Widowmaker offered up before returning to staring down at the party. The sound of Tracer collapsing on the bridge next to her was pointedly ignored, even as her long, long legs started swinging off the edge.

“Awful lonely up here, don’tcha think?”

“I prefer to be alone.”

At that Widowmaker abruptly noticed that Tracer was unwrapping whatever it was she’d brought up here. A second later she found Tracer trying to get her to grab onto the carefully wrapped burger she’d brought up for her.

“You still like mustard right? Got the extra fancy kind on there too. I can get you anything else if you want, quick as a blink! The Junkers really go all out on barbeque, apparently Junkrat wasn’t kidding when he kept inviting us over for one. They’ve got anything you could want down there! Well, except hot dogs unfortunately. Did you know Junkrat doesn’t eat pork? He just said ‘it’s weird now’ and pointed over at Roadhog. Who’s a vegetarian! Freaky, huh?”

The burger had been successfully shoved into her hands while Tracer tittered on excitedly. Not like Widowmaker wasn’t used to her nonstop motormouth by now.

However, her judgemental stare tilted to verify that Junkrat indeed was manning the grill, Roadhog slightly to the side and passing out food to the crowd. Junkrat’s face was far too close to the flames but she supposed he was used to that by now, if his constantly singed hair was any indicator.

A second later and it more than just singed. It must have been second nature by now as Roadhog tossed a glass of water at him, putting out the fire that was quickly spreading to half his head.

Looking down at the burger gripped in her hands she started to wonder if it was even safe to eat. However, if Tracer’s gusto was anything to go off of it couldn’t be that bad. Widowmaker knew all too well that the scrawny girl was a picky eater, usually being chased after by Winston trying to get her to eat her fruits and veggies instead of microwaved crap. Refusing to eat something if it even had a trace of tomato on-

Widowmaker abruptly derailed her train of thought as she realized she was gazing softly at Tracer who was smiling over at her, ketchup smeared across her cheek. The bright bloom of warmth in her chest as extinguished quickly. She jerked her head to the side, looking for a benign target.

Zarya, the terrifying soldier woman. Not even facing her, the bright bubblegum pink hair all she could see. One shot would turn the back of her head into a beautiful flower, flayed open for all to see. That conservationist, Mei, was bouncing around her while she tried to tie a well worn volleyball net up. Her efforts were in vain so far, it kept floating back to the ground every time Zarya switched sides to get it going.

McCree joined their cause. It would be another easy kill, especially with Hanzo idly trailing behind him. Four distracted. Four dead.

Especially as Mei started cheering as that stupid cowboy grabbed an arrow from Hanzo and expertly twisted the net around it, securing up both sides with ease. She bounded off to retrieve the volleyball from inside. So maybe only three kills right now. Still so easy.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Tracer was watching her with rapt attention as she noisily chewed, “Hey, they got it up! You wanna be on my team later? We’ll have Wiiiinston! Probably, at least. He’s always on my team. All seven foot something of gorilla’s gotta be good for volleyball too.”

“I am not one for sport,” she said, slowly starting to move away from Tracer.

Her escape was crushed as Tracer was smushed against her tighter, nearly forcing her way under Widowmaker’s arm, “Oh come on now, love! Nothing like a little exercise to get the heart racing.”

But her turtle of a heart couldn’t keep up with Tracer’s rabbit one. Especially as a tiny hand grabbed hers, pushing Widowmaker’s hands up towards her face as she urged her to eat the burger. She had to admit it looked good, especially with that mustard dripping off of it tantalizingly. Tracer giggled in delight as Widowmaker bit savagely into it, previously unaware of how hungry she was.

A common occurrence for her and Tracer knew it. Even before her… transformation. When they were both whole. Late nights interrupted by Tracer- no, Lena- bringing her a sandwich made by her husband. A smile in the dark, knowing the two people closest to her were watching over-

Once again she averted her eyes looking for a target to distract. Mercy. Wide open. Flanked by Pharah and Symmetra though. The two seemed adequately distracted though, the three obviously enraptured in some deep conversation. Since they’d all started meeting up like this you could usually find those women like that. Bunched up, talking about some book they’d all read or some documentary they all watched. They coordinated it. Disgusting.

Either way an easy kill. Maybe two if she managed to shock them with Mercy’s sudden fall. Not Pharah, probably, but maybe Symmetra. She was a bit nervous sometimes and it would be a messy splatter.

Tracer nuzzled against Widowmaker’s arm a bit to get her attention, “Is it good?”

For a split second she thought she was asking about the shot. She corrected herself though as she looked down at the half eaten burger in her hands, “It is… surprisingly good.”

It was true. Apparently the Junkers knew how to make a burger. She filed that away for future use, should it somehow come in handy. She could have sworn she heard Junkrat yells ‘thanks, mate!’ in response but surely he must be responding to someone down there.

Tracer just nodded though as she popped the last morsel of her burger into her mouth, producing a second one from the little bundle she’d carried up there. Talking through a full mouth she prattled on, “So, why’re you lurking up here instead of being down there with us? Even Reaper’s being a part of the group.”

She pointed at the reclusive man who had been accosted by Soldier, trapped in place on his previously vacant picnic table by a strong arm he was trying to casually escape from. Despite the mask covering his face he obviously couldn’t be less happy about it, doubling and tripling down as Reinhardt and Torbjorn started gossiping from a table away. His efforts to escape multiplied but he was grabbed by a strap around his arm, leaving him no cool and collected way to escape this hell.

“Because of things like that, mon amie,” she muttered sarcastically, acutely aware of the fact Tracer’s appearance up here had done just that. Especially as she felt an arm hook around hers, trapping her not unlike the man far below them.

“Oh come on, nothing wrong with a little friendship!” Tracer said, pointing one of her ridiculously long legs at them, “See? He’s happy.”

Widowmaker failed the stifle the snicker at Tracer’s joke as Reaper nearly fell off the bench trying to escape Soldier’s grasp. Ironically his fall was only stopped by his very captor catching him.

This time it was Tracer’s turn to pick out a target, pointing at her own friends who were eating their burgers at the edge of the cliff. Lucio and D.va. Legs swinging rhythmically to the music coming from the device clutched in his right hand.

“We could go sit by them, yeah? I’m pretty sure Lucio’s showing off his new track right now. Bet it’s bangin’! You’ve heard his music before, right?”

Widowmaker’d more than heard it, she loved it, but she wasn’t about to admit that. The DJ would be ecstatic and be chasing after her with the same intense need for friendship as the woman snuggling up against her right now. Instead she just shrugged and feigned innocence.

“Oh you’ve got to, you’ve GOT to,” Tracer chirped, polishing off her second burger and bouncing up. Surprisingly strong hands grabbed Widowmaker’s upper arm to try to tug her down to the cliffside to drown her in friendship.

Another distraction, she needed another distraction. A new one. A target. Eyes swept over a crowd she’d already mentally picked clean.

A sharp whistle brought her eyes up, locking intimately with a new target.

Big brown eyes were shining down at her. It was rare to see any of them out of their gear, seeing Tracer’s goggleless eyes were an abnormality. She hadn’t really thought about it when Tracer’d jogged up here but it was hard to ignore now that she’d been trapped in the web of eye contact.

Eyes roved now, despite herself. Examining the target as always but in greater detail with the unusually close proximity. Tracer’s hair was the same nest of flyaways as always, the one constant. The massive combat chronal accelerator was replaced with a smaller one, still anchored to the port in her chest. Barely visible over the top of her bright orange tube top.

It left little to the imagination but hers still raced. It was tight against Tracer’s stomach, the couple inch gap between it and the jean short shorts more alluring than Widowmaker cared to admit. And thigh highs? Really? Bright orange, just like her normal body suit. Outfit topped off by horrid yellow Converse.

Her eyes travelled back up to Tracer’s face. It was immediately obvious that her up-and-down assessment of the little speedster hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her face was lit up like a victim of Pharah’s rocket assault, cheeks bright red and eyes positively glowing. Her hands were a twisting nest behind her back as she cooed down at Widowmaker, “Enjoying the view, love?”

She nearly broke her own neck as she abruptly jerked her head in the opposite direction, to look at literally anything but Tracer.

It was too late though, the two thin hands sliding from Widowmaker’s upper arm to grab her hand. The tugging got more insistent, completely unignorable. She just sighed and down the rest of the mustard covered burger. It would have been disgusting to anyone else but Tracer’d been right; Widowmaker loved it.

Widowmaker relented after that, letting the perky woman drag her to the party. Down the stairs, across the vacant road, past the tables. She exchanged a sympathetic glance with the trapped Reaper who was now surrounded by the other old men of Overwatch who were loudly reminiscing about ‘the good old days’. She couldn’t help but notice Soldier’s hand had traveled from Reaper’s arm to his waist. Given his lack of protest it looked like she isn’t the only baddie with a soft spot for a goody two shoes.

She tried to stay cold and aloof as Tracer dragged her over to D.va and Lucio, prompting her to sit trapped inbetween herself and the DJ.

As Lucio turned up his device a bit so Widowmaker could hear too she noticed Tracer curling around her arm again, metal of the chronal accelerator pressing almost uncomfortably hard into her. She paid it no mind though. She was much more distracted by a small hand insistently working its way into her own claw, nudging until it found its home between her long bony fingers.

Absentmindedly, Widowmaker raised her other hand to wipe away the long forgotten stripe of ketchup across Tracer’s face.

\---

Winston kept an eye out for Tracer up there but he was wholly unsurprised when she eventually got Widowmaker to come down and join the others. He knew his friend was nothing if not the single most persuasive person he’s ever met in his life.

If she wants you to be her friends then, damn it, you’re going to be her friend.

The icy Widowmaker was no different. He supposed whatever their past was that it certainly didn’t hurt. He’d never pried into the situation, he was a gorilla that knew how to stay in his lane and not push boundaries.

Speaking of pushing boundaries, he noticed Tracer slowly work her hand into Widowmaker’s as they sat with the others on the cliffside.

He’d never seen Tracer in romantic pursuit. If he was a betting primate he’d put his money on her being just as persuasive as ever. Considering the fact Widowmaker gently wiped her face and wasn’t doing anything to free her hand from captivity he was probably right.


End file.
